


Love is Poison

by sansalannistark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Snow White AU, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-31 15:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12135039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansalannistark/pseuds/sansalannistark
Summary: "Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same." - Cersei LannisterThe Queen sends her huntsman to kill the "younger and more beautiful" nightmare of her dreams.





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a Jaime/Sansa Snow White AU, which is very AU in itself because I've not really followed the story but oh well. I know it's been done wonderfully before but I wanted to do my own take on it :)

_I raised her,_ the Queen thinks angrily. _I gave her everything._ Yet still, Sansa Stark remains her downfall. She had heard the prophecy herself from her magic mirror, where the woods witch Maggy remains immortalised, repeating those same damning words again and again and again...

_A younger and more beautiful queen, to cast you down and take all you hold dear..._

Cersei will not let Sansa take her crown nor her kingdom. Sansa may be beautiful and docile but those traits will not aid her when the Queen calls upon her huntsman. 

Jaime presents himself before his Queen upon her command. Cersei is furious and he would not place himself in her line of fire. He has already displeased her by refusing to continue their illicit relationship. Now he is just a prop - another ally to follow her rule and do her bidding but she remains his sister and he cannot leave. Even if he wanted to - which part of him does - what awaits him out there? There is nothing to tempt him from this bitter place. War has devastated everything.

"My huntsman," the Queen calls from her throne, "I have a new task for you. I want you to find Sansa Stark, kill her, and bring me her heart." 

Jaime - who knows all too well how precarious the Queen's opinion on this particular subject is, bows his head. "I will do as you command, your grace.” 

With her leave and armed with a valyrian steel dagger, he rides forth from the city. Something unsettles him about his task, remembering Sansa as a silly, naive girl. He never saw her grow up while his sister did. Something must truly frighten her to have her resort to such a measure. For all he knows, Sansa has grown as cold and violent as his Queen. 

A simple matter of eavesdropping at tavern doors and well placed threats reveal Sansa's whereabouts. The people say she lives in the western woods and that is where he goes.

It’s early when he arrives, dew still gathered on the leaves, the ground crunchy underfoot with frost, warning of a harsh approaching winter. Jaime keeps one hand on his dagger as he stalks the woodland, unaware of what sort of girl he is going to face. He half expects a trained fighter wielding blades and killing soldiers –  he knows they favour equipping women to fight in the North.

He does not foresee a sweet young woman caring for a flock of orphaned children. 

Sansa Stark is standing in the middle of a gaggle of young children, the oldest no more than twelve years of age, who are listening aptly to a story she is telling, while they eat bowls of stew. The story she tells is one of the mythical white walkers that once supposedly plagued the far North, beyond the ice wall. Jaime finds himself intrigued until the story reaches its conclusion and the children throw her hugs and words of gratitude and run from the forest back, he supposes, to the nearby village. Sansa remains in the clearing for a while, breathing in the clean air.

Jaime cannot understand Cersei's words - her insistence of this girl's threat to her life ring in his ears but the nymph standing before him couldn’t be more dissimilar to the image painted by the Queen. He has a half a mind to leave now and tell Cersei she is wrong, that Sansa poses no threat, but almost immediately he dismisses the idea: his sister will never accept that. 

So he steps forward quietly, years of practice at silent attack returning to him. He is mere steps away from her now, he can smell the distinct aroma of lemons coming from her skin and shakes his head to avoid becoming distracted. Before she can even take another breath he lunges, wrapping one arm round her waist and bringing the other - now holding the dagger - up to her pale white neck. Sansa squeals but he shifts his hand from her waist to her mouth, drowning her cries and holding her in place by the neck. 

"Shush now. If you keep quiet I'll make this quick."

Sansa whimpers but nods. Jaime narrows his eyes and slowly takes his hand from her mouth. Sansa pants, her chest heaving for air. Slowly, he turns her around to face him, keeping one arm wrapped tight around her, lest she try anything stupid. 

Sansa's blue eyes stare at him, the fear in their depths clear as anything, but in her eyes there is also a fierceness he has not seen since he refused Cersei. 

"Will you allow me to say my last words?" He is unused to the tone in his victims: it is challenging, not a note of submission on her lips. _Lips as red as blood_. He recalls Cersei raving about it, and now that he sees them, he cannot help but be distracted by them, wonders what it would be like to kiss them. _Stop it. You aren't here to romance her. You're here to kill her._  

"Yes," he replies

"Fine. Have you been sent by the Queen?"

"Yes."

"Why does she want me dead? I pose no harm to her - all I want is to go home to Winterfell."

"Queen Cersei believes in a prophecy - a prophecy where you take her crown and kingdom. She sent me to prevent it: by ending your life."

"I know of no such prophecy. I can assure you, I hold no desire for power. Cersei can have her rotting kingdom and her worthless crown. I want naught to do with it." Jaime is stuck by her honesty. He starts to wonder if Cersei has indeed been warped by madness. He can see in the girl's eyes that she speaks the truth. 

Quite without realising what he is doing, Jaime lowers his dagger and lets her slip from his arms. Sansa looks at him is disbelief. "You're not going to kill me?"

"No, I won't." He has a death sentence on his head now, he knows that, but even in that knowledge, he cannot bring himself to end the life of a beautiful innocent girl. He will not. 

Sansa gasps, placing her hand against the tree trunk to support herself. "Thank you, Ser." _Ser_. He hasn't heard that in years and it endears him to her in such a way that one one else has ever elicited before.

"Won’t the Queen be angry?”

“Aye, she will.” It’s the hard truth.

Sansa frowns. “You’d risk her wrath by sparing the life of a girl you don’t know?”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

She considers him for a moment, her brain working furiously as she scans him up and down.

“Come,” she says eventually. “Let me give you a meal... you let me live, I want to repay you."

 Jaime should refuse, should avoid getting more involved, but he finds himself powerless, in an altogether different way to the powerlessness he feels as Cersei's faithful servant.

"I would be grateful... Sansa." She smiles then, warmth radiating outwardly as she motions for him to follow we through the bracken. 

"You never told me your name," she asks as they approach her cottage. 

"Jaime. My name is Jaime."

“I thought I recognised you. I suppose we’ve never really met, but I know who you are, Jaime Lannister,” Sansa remarks thoughtfully. He feels her look up at him. "Jaime... it's a nice name for such a man," she adds, half teasing, half serious.

He could drown in how she says his name.

Jaime nods slowly. "I used to be honourable. I was a knight - a good one and then things happened and I changed. I don't want to change anymore."

"Well, you gave me my life," she supplies.

"I never should have tried to take it in the first place."

She leads him into her quaint little cottage, a tumbledown abode surrounded by natural woodland. Inside, a small fire crackles and there's the smell of roasting meat cloying in the air. 

"You're lucky," she says, turning and motioning for him to take the chair near the table. "I only have meat some days, when the villagers catch a deer or some other animal." 

"That I am," he agrees, taking in her house. Jaime’s not quite sure what he’s truly feeling lucky for. He’s surprised Sansa’s let him stay – she’s much more trusting than most.

A small door leads off to what he presumes is her chamber, and though the house is hardly comparable to the Red Keep, it holds a warmth that the capital's majestic building never could. He watches her distractedly as she prepares the meat, adds some sort of stodgy vegetable and slides him a plate before sliding a chair up for herself. For half the meal they sit in relative silence, waiting, until she asks the question he dreads. 

"Why did you spare me?" 

Jaime sighs, pausing momentarily while he thinks about it. She wants an answer but he isn't sure he has one - or that the answer he gives her is the truth. 

"The Queen - my sister - said you were cruel, ungrateful and that you conspired to steal her throne. I believed her.... I always had but she betrayed me long ago and I remained by her side out of loyalty as her only remaining sibling, her only remaining family. I.... I never wanted to end the life of an innocent. I thought you warranted your fate..."

"And I don't?"

"No," he reassures. "You don't."

"Well I'm glad _you_ think so," she says. Jaime at first mistakes it for sarcasm and he smirks but her gaze is downcast and she's stirring her food, not really eating. 

"Sansa...."

She looks at him then, hurt etching the corners of her eyes.

"I never asked for any of this. It wasn't my choice to ever end up there. I never wanted... Gods, no one cares! I would have given anything to leave Cersei and I didn't get the choice. Has no one ever stopped to ask how I feel? I, who have lost nearly all my family, who lives alone in the woods hoping she won't get raped or murdered by a passing soldier, who wants nothing more than to go home. But I can’t leave – the children rely on me." 

He feels truly awful now. No one has ever made him feel guilty for his family’s actions in all his five and thirty years, yet this small slip of a girl has him engulfed in regret.

"Sansa, I'm truly sorry." Jaime reaches across the table and grabs her hand. To his surprise, she doesn't pull it away, she just looks up at him with those brilliant, blue, enrapturing eyes and he finds himself ensnared. 

“Where will you go? Surely the queen won’t... she won’t take you back...”

Her words sting, he won’t deny it, but she’s right in saying he’s got nowhere to go... Cersei will have his head.

“Would you... would you allow me stay? Just for a little while....”

Sansa hesitates and he understands – she shouldn’t trust him. Gods, he wouldn’t, but she smiles, her face broken from its impassive pleading and he finds himself smiling too.

“Yes, Jaime, you can stay. Just make yourself useful, alright?”

He eagerly finishes his meal and she joins him in earnest. Jaime completely overlooks the fact that he has not given Cersei the girl’s heart.

\------

Cersei seethes as Qyburn brings her the raven - she had thought Jaime was capable but clearly he's stupider than she thought. She wants Sansa dead. Now. If Jaime cannot slit her throat and carve out her heart, then she will have to take matters into her own hands. Perhaps she'll pay sweet Sansa a visit. As for Jaime... well she does not forgive those who betray her. He'll meet his own fate for disobeying his Queen. 

Cersei commands Qyburn to stay. She no longer cares for a horrible death for this girl – she wants the deed done, and her disgraced maester will provide the solution.

"I need a poison that can deliver quick, sudden death, but that is virtually undetectable to the eye. You have such a venom?" 

"Yes, my queen. There is a poison – sweetsleep. It creates a slumber from which the victim will never wake, if they are given three pinches. Its effect is almost instantaneous with four.”

“Very good. I need a vial fetched immediately – and have the stables prepare the carriage.”

“Of course, your grace.”

\-------

They pass the amicably. Days turn into weeks, weeks into months and still Jaime does not leave – it goes unspoken that he can stay indefinitely but neither of them wish to say it. Sansa continues to tell stories to the children and gather herbs and berries. Jaime finds himself helping with some of the manual upkeep in the village and chopping firewood at the cottage. Eventually, after a short while – and a few kind words from Sansa, he suspects – the villagers come to trust him. He gathers she hasn’t told them of his original intent to come here – he’d be dead if she had. Jaime is not blind to the love they have for her and it endears her even more to him. Sansa is adored by everyone around her. Even Jaime is not immune to her innocent charms.

One day he catches her practising with a dagger. Sansa is hurling it at the tree, trying to hit her hastily marked target. She’s not doing at all bad; half the time she hits the tree, but her stance is all wrong.

“Nice aim,” he calls. She turns and rolls her eyes at him. A recurring sight – they’ve become much more familiar in their time together.

“Your stance needs a bit of work though.”

Sansa shoots him another look, turn back around and throws the dagger. It thunks satisfyingly into the soft wood. She collects it and smirks languidly at him and he laughs.

“C’mere.” He grabs her hands and turns her so she’s got her body turned to the side, her face forwards. He grabs her hands, positioning them correctly. “Now try.” She throws, hits the tree again, this time a tiny bit closer to the target. Now it’s his turn to smirk.

“I don’t know why I put up with you.”

“That makes two of us!” he jokes, shoving her playfully.

They walk back to the cottage and sit down for tea, chattering about how Sansa screamed when she saw a rat in the kitchen – so loud, Jaime declares dramatically - that it distracted him so much he almost took his finger off with the axe.

He doesn’t realise how happy he feels until he’s curled over, struggling to breathe from how much they’re laughing. Sansa’s eyes are streaming tears as she tries and fails to hold back another bout of giggles.

One minute, Jaime’s stopped, his laughter dissipating. The next, he’s leaning over Sansa and his lips are on hers.

Like the night in the cottage, when he went to hold her hand, he expects her to pull away. Instead, she shocks him again by moving back against him and wrapping her arm round his waist so he tumbles into her lap. The sudden movement unbalances her and she and he both fall to the floor, Sansa catching herself before she squashes him. She’s dizzy and out of breath and she’s struggling to keep herself supported above him but he grabs her and pulls her on top of him as he slips his tongue into her mouth. Their teeth crash together and he swears she bites his lower lip at one point (he can taste the tang of blood), but it’s everything he’s wanted since he laid eyes on her.

Sansa’s head is telling her it’s wrong. No woman should be this passionate with anyone but her husband, yet here she is, lying against Jaime while his tongue is in her mouth and her hands are twisting his hair. He knows about Harrold – how could he not, he’s seen her oft enough in the village, she and Harry don’t hide anything...

And yet she cannot bring herself to care about any of it. Sansa’s never truly loved Harry, not like he deserves, but Jaime...

It excites her, falling in love with the man meant to kill her. She’s not afeard of him and he’s proven himself a man of honor in these last months. Ever since she was small, everything Sansa has done has been for necessity or for her family.

Not once has she chosen something for herself, she realises as Jaime’s mouth traces her jaw. _Screw propriety. I choose him._ Sansa begins to unlace her stays, matching Jaime’s soft kisses, but a hand stills her own.

Jaime stops, realising just what she’s about and shakes his head. “I won’t take you, Sansa. I cannot... it’s not right.”

Sansa feels her heart begin to tear. He does not love her, maybe that’s the truth. She knows the rumours about he and the Queen, it’s entirely possible he’s still in love with her. So she stands, biting her lip to hold back the tears that hover traitorously and senses Jaime pulling himself to his feet. Turning away so that she doesn’t have to look at his face, she walks to the window, breathing deeply to control her pain. Sansa hears Jaime say something but the roaring in her ears is too much and she can’t look at him, she can’t hear him.

“Sansa... I did not mean...”

Sansa lets out a muffled sob then, because damn her, she cannot help it. Her body shakes and she curls her fingers into the hard wooden windowsill until they’re white as the northern snows.

“Sansa... I love you. Please do not think I refused you because I do not want you. I refused you because it’s not proper... you’re young and beautiful and you have Harrold. You should be married before any man touches you. I will not despoil you.”

She is frozen. Her fingers unclench, blood returning to the icy joints and Sansa swears she might faint. “You want me?” she whispers, hating the weakness in her voice.

“Yes, sweet girl. I want you, _so_ much.” Sansa lets the tension leave her body, and flings her arms around Jaime’s chest, burying her face in his tunic.

“I love you too, you stupid man,” she almost cries. He carries her carefully to bed and settles her under the covers before he leaves. He parts with a gentle kiss to her forehead, brushing the ends of his fingers against her temple

“Sweet dreams.”

 


	2. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is  
> the   
> end  
> where the  
> hero  
> s h a t t e r s

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Shattered'... like your hearts, I hope. and Jaime's ;)) I got sick of writing fluff so it's angst/fluff. I missed angsty Sanlan :))
> 
> As always, reviews treasured!

There is a new ease to their lives now everything is out in the open. They are more carefree than ever, openly affectionate as any couple. Hardly anyone knows of what has conspired between them – Sansa has ended things with Harry and they know the people must suspect but it is not discussed.

Jaime wants to marry her, more than anything. Sansa has made any thought of Cersei disappear from his mind and he is grateful. He knows no Queen anymore and the only woman he wishes to worship is his Sansa. The ring he keeps upon his person is crafted by the village blacksmith, a simple band of steel but elegant nonetheless. Jaime knows Sansa is planning on gathering plants by the stream but she’s promised to be back by nightfall and her outing gives him time to make the place homely. He’s arranged flowers in her clay pot, lit candles throughout the room and has supper stewing.

He’s so good at cutting out hearts he hopes he can care for one.

A knock on the door makes him jump. Thinking its Sansa, he brushes his hands down his tunic quickly, but when he opens the door, it’s Harry who greets him. The boy’s face is painted with worry and a cold feeling sinks into him.

“Jaime... you’re here, thank the gods...”

“Harry... what is it?”

“The Queen’s carriage. It’s been spotted a few miles back. There have been a couple of soldiers around it but the Queen is nowhere to be seen...”

Jaime’s face pales and he feels a fright like no other. There’s only one reason Cersei is here.

“Sansa...” he whispers shakily before he’s running off into the night.

Harry stands aghast as the door slams shut behind Jaime’s disappearing figure 

\-----

Sansa’s bathed by the river and she begins the short trudge back to the cottage she shares with Jaime. Something tells her he’s going to propose – perhaps it was the eagerness at her going out. Normally, he does not act so pleased when she tells him she’s going out to the river. She hopes she’s right – she’s dressed and bathed specially.

As she reaches the treeline, an old woman stumbles out from the woods. She almost falls and Sansa reaches out to hold up her. The crone looks up at her, smiling toothily.

“Thank you, dear, I’m most grateful. Treacherous these woods, aren’t they.”

Sansa smiles kindly. “They can be dangerous if you don’t know where to look.”

“Yes... indeed.” The old woman leers at her. “Do you know the way to the kingsroad, m’dear?”

“It’s just this way through these trees, keeping a straight path and then right at the old tree – it’s huge, you won’t miss it. Do you want me to walk with you?”

“I should be fine, but please, take one of these apples as my thanks to you,” she crows. “They’re freshly picked." Sansa smiles gratefully and accepts the fruit.

“Thank you, they look delicious.”

“Oh, yes, and sweeter than pie.”

Sansa beams, and takes a bite, savouring the sweet juice. She continues to much at the soft flesh as the old lady ambles away. Sansa is about to turn up the path to the cottage but the woman stops and turns, an uncharacteristically leering smile on her face and she stares at Sansa. Confused, Sansa is about to call out when her stomach twists and she rubs her hand across it. She’s about to cry out when it hits again, but his time her throat begins to tighten too. Sansa starts to gasp, trying desperately to breathe in some air. The old woman’s face warps as tears leak down her face from the pain but when the crone’s face becomes clear it’s not the wrinkled face of an aged woman she sees but Cersei Lannister’s youthful face. The Queen’s smile twitches and she sneers.

“No woman shall cast me down, little dove. I hope for your sake it’s quick.”

Sansa hears a call from the trees as Cersei starts to walk away. The desperate pounding of feet and the continued cries fly desperately trough the undergrowth. _Jaime,_ she realises as she collapses, squeezing her eyes shut. Sansa cannot feel the air in her lungs and in the last remaining light she hopes uselessly that she will get to see Jaime but the world darkens and he isn’t here. Sansa takes a last raspy breath as she sinks onto the forest floor and goes limp.

\-----------

“Sansa!”

 Jaime’s shouts have become louder and more insistent as he nears the river. His legs shake with the effort of running through the wilderness and his heart pounds but he hasn’t found her and Cersei could be with her right now and she’s defenceless and if his sister tries to hurt her and he’s not there...

Jaime almost misses her, but her red hair beckons to him from the mossy carpet coating the woodland. “Sansa,” he gasps, because she’s lying on the floor and she’s not moving and _oh gods_ she’s pale as anything.

He falls to his knees beside her, searching erratically for her pulse. At its elusive absence he desperately tries to revive her, pressing his lips against hers. Jaime had imagined this, imagined kissing her tonight, of filling their little cottage with love and warmth. He never imagined he’d be here in the cold darkness of the cottage kissing her just to make her _breathe_.

“Sansa, please...” he begs, the choking note in his voice drowning out his words. “Please... for me... you have to _breathe_...”

Jaime is relentless. The overwhelming sorrow he suffers at the feel of Sansa’s cold dead body under his is unthinkable. He presses firmly against her chest again and again, trying to restart her gentle heart but after a time, he slumps down, exhausting every effort to revive her. He presses one hand to her cheek and leaves a brief kiss there, unable to comprehend why he has stopped and _yet_

it is foolish.

There is only madness. If it were anyone else, he would have given up hours ago, would have said his goodbyes and buried the body but because it is _Sansa_ and because it is _today,_ the day when he would have made her his, he cannot bring himself to leave her here, even if he is finally able to admit that every trace of life has left her form.

Instead, he carries her, every step torture for it only forces him to replay everything that has happened and in those lapses where he doesn’t, he must look at the dead body of the woman he loves. He hears them before he sees them, the anguished cries and shocked gasps greeting him as he stumbles to the door. He hasn’t cried the whole time, so wrapped in this shroud of disbelief and despair, but the second he staggers over the threshold, he collapses to the ground and his eyes blur as he cradles her body. Fingers prise against his, trying to force him to _let her go, Jaime._

Tears fall and inhuman sobs greet his ears and he is so consumed that it takes him more than a moment to realise that it his tears he feels upon his cheeks, his cries that he hears and his shoulders that shake. An arm wraps around his shoulder and vaguely he recalls the figure as one of Sansa’s friends from the village. He cares not who.

It is some time before they are able to separate them: this broken, living man and the corpse of a girl who was poisoned by a wretched Queen. Jaime has not moved from his place by her side, guarding her in death as if it in some way makes up for his failure to do so in life. People come and go, visiting her and leaving flowers and respects and tears at her table. Jaime sits through it all, motionless and mute.

Even the nearby sorceress – known only as Melisandre of Asshai – pays the mourning house a call. “Jaime Lannister,” she whispers to him as he continues to stand vigil. “I know of a way to save her.” It is the first time he’s lifted his head in almost two days: he hears it crack and wonders if it’s not his heart instead.

“Save her... h...how?” Now his voice cracks too. Maybe it’s his whole body that’s falling apart. It feels awfully like it.

“The poison that killed her, it was given in bitterness and jealousy. A kiss from the one who deserves her love can break its curse and she will return to you once again.” Jaime clutches the table. Hope attaches itself to him, clinging to what’s left and suddenly he can see Sansa’s blue eyes without wanting to tear himself to pieces.

The only thing is... he never deserved her.

He may have been devoted to her, but he killed her. Why did he even spare her life if he was going to end it anyway?

If enduring losing her to another man is what it takes to save her life, he might just be able to bear it. Jaime turns to the witch. “Send for Harrold Hardyng.”

Jaime savours the moments he has left with her, for once she wakes, he goes. Where, he knows not, though he will never return to Cersei, save to deliver justice for ending Sansa’s life. Perchance, he might take a ship, leave for Essos or Braavos, Pentos or Lys. He passes the minutes by shroking Sansa’s cool hand, and when he hears the cottage door open, he slips the ring quietly in her skirt pocket. It feel wrong to take it. Placing an airy kiss on her forehead, he stands up, faint from sleeplessness and stumbles out into the kitchen. Harry waits.

“Go... save her. I’ll be gone when she wakes.”

“Jaime...”

“Harry... it’s alright.” It isn’t. It isn’t at all but it’s what she deserves.

Jaime accepts defeat, slumping down at the table as Melisandre takes Harry into the room.

Minutes pass and Jaime falls asleep at the table. When he wakes, shaken from sleep by Melisandre, he stares at her with wide eyes. “Is she...?”

The shaking of her head ends him.

“It did not work. I am sorry....”

“Harry is gone?” She nods in response. Jaime stands. “I’m going to say goodbye...” he almost suffocates on the depth of his words. “One last time...”

She’s still so beautiful, never deserving any of this. He wishes there was some way... he could cut out his heart and give it to her... sacrifice himself to the gods... but Harry’s attempts have proven that it’s fruitless and futile.

“Goodbye, sweet girl,” he manages, hovering over her. “I love you so desperately. I will never stop being sorry for what it cost you.” He brushes a hand over the pocket where the damn ring lies and curses himself for it. Before he can drown in his tears he relents and presses a hard kiss to her unyielding lips, aware that it’s wrong with her like this but he can’t leave without feeling what it’s like one last time.

The cold and apathy is wrong. He can’t stay. The kiss has drained the last remanants of life from his blood.

He is walking away from her when he hears it.

“Jaime...?”

He really does shatter then.


End file.
